


Toccata

by Cardinal_Daughter



Series: Till We Loved [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Gay Sex, Gentle Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Poetry Used as an Aphrodisiac, Romance, Secret Relationship, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22059109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardinal_Daughter/pseuds/Cardinal_Daughter
Summary: Toccata1. To touch.Anthony and Ezra travel to Crowley's family home for the winter, where they can finally be together the way they've always wanted.Sequel toRefrainandReprise.Human AU. Victorian Era.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Till We Loved [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582882
Comments: 42
Kudos: 312





	Toccata

**Author's Note:**

> Well hell. I barely got this up before the new year, but I did it. 
> 
> This was supposed to be smut. Like, JUST smut. But then my brain decided to world-build for 20 pages first.
> 
> This is a sequel to Refrain and Reprise. It's recommended to read those before reading this one, otherwise it might not make a lot of sense. 
> 
> Apologies for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

**Toccata**

Everything is settled. Bags are packed, a forwarding address has been left at the post office, and there’s a neatly written sign hanging on the front door of _ Mr. Fell’s _ that states he is away on business for the winter. 

The only thing left to do is tell Ezra’s family. 

It’s not that his family is unaware of his association with Lt. Crowley. It’s that they don’t like him. To be fair, the Fell’s don’t like anyone, despite what they would have the rest of the world believe. Polite conversation and charming smiles melt into judgemental remarks and condemnation in the privacy of the Fell’s home. Ezra dreads telling his family he is leaving: he knows they’ll expect him for Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas Day breakfast, as well as the New Year celebration they host every year. But Ezra is determined. He is tired of bowing to the whims and demands of his elder siblings, and has decided that he’d rather part with them on poor terms than to be without Anthony for another winter. 

Despite Crowley’s protests, Ezra insists on going alone. It isn’t that he doesn’t want Crowley to see his family home, it’s merely that he is afraid that somehow Anthony’s presence will make it all the more obvious what he is doing: running away with his male lover. No, it’s best he go alone, especially so Anthony doesn’t witness the harsh disdain Ezra will receive for letting down the family. Again. 

Ezra walks up the path to the Eastern Gate Abbey; normally the family sends a carriage to collect him, but on this particular evening they do not expect him, and Ezra never ventures to his childhood home unless explicitly requested by his family. 

The Eastern Gate Abbey is, in Ezra’s opinion, a shell of what it once was. Part of a larger monastery, the mansion in which he grew up has long since been nothing more than an elaborate husk that holds scathing cold sentries within, determined to keep the abbey as lavish and self-important as ever. Ezra recalls his mother telling stories passed down from grandmothers and great-grandmothers of the home in its glory days; of how the abbey had been a place of reflection and peace and healing. Now it’s another expensive home cared for by those who only appreciate the expensive carpets and tapestries and silverware it holds. 

Adjusting his clothing nervously, knowing Gabriel will give him a snide once-over upon seeing him, Ezra knocks on the door. 

He’s greeted by one of the footmen, and is escorted into Gabriel’s study to wait for his brother. While seated, Ezra looks around at all the books that have never been appreciated by the heir of the abbey. In fact, Ezra is reasonably certain that if it weren’t for the fact that keeping all these books gives the image of being well-read and able to afford so many fine works, Gabriel would toss the entire lot of them. 

Thankfully his brother doesn’t pay attention to the library records; it’s allowed Ezra to ‘salvage’ several incredible pieces for his shop. They aren’t for sale, nor can they be removed from the premises, but he has them, and others can read them if they wish, and that’s what matters. 

Eventually Gabriel enters. Michael is with him, and they both look appropriately annoyed at being interrupted. 

“Ezra,” Gabriel says with that smile that is too wide to be sincere. “We were just heading out-“ 

“I won’t keep you,” Ezra interrupts, standing and straightening his vest absently. He watches as Gabriel’s eyes scan over him, and sees that smile flicker with disdain. “I merely wanted to inform you in person that I am going out of town on business, and likely won’t be back until Spring. I merely wanted to assure you that I’m pleased to forfeit my seat at Christmas to whomever you deign to invite in my stead.” 

Michael regards him curiously. “Business?” She asks in that tone that suggests she doesn’t quite care, but is asking because it’s polite. 

“Yes,” Ezra nods, clearing his throat. “The bookshop is doing very well-“ here Gabriel huffs impatiently- “And I have an opportunity to possibly add some new works to my collection. So I am… doing exactly… that.” 

Michael regards him for a long moment before remarking, “I suppose that business associate of yours… Lt. Crowley… will be joining you?” 

“He is kind enough to let me join him out of London,” Ezra says, “He has his own business to attend to elsewhere.” 

She eyes him skeptically, but he meets her gaze with a confidence he isn’t sure he knows the source of. Finally she seems satisfied and releases a small, “Hmm,” in reply. Then she reaches out and tugs on her brother’s sleeve. “We’re going to be late.” 

Gabriel nods. “Yes. Well, we have to be going, Ezra. Thank you for letting us know.” 

“Of course,” Ezra says, and before he can stop himself he adds, pettily, “I would hate to worry you with my absence.” 

With that he nods his head, and before either sibling can reply, he brushes past them, calling out over his shoulder, “Bid cousin Uriel a Happy Christmas for me!” 

He knows they won’t. And they know he knows. 

With that he leaves the abbey, feeling quite pleased with himself for how he handled the whole thing. 

He can’t wait to tell Anthony. 

* * *

Anthony has some last minute preparations to make, and so Ezra sleeps alone that night. They’d agreed it probably wise not to stay together, but Ezra is having a hard time recalling the reasoning behind their decision. He’s curled up in bed, his belongings packed away and waiting at the door to be loaded into Crowley’s carriage in the morning. 

And then they’ll be off, for an entire season _ together _. 

It warms Ezra through, to think that this is the last night he’ll have to sleep alone, at least for a time. He knows that when they return the sting of loneliness will be even greater, but already he is dreaming of _ next _ winter, when Crowley will hesitantly ask Ezra to join him, and for the first time in their entire history together, they _ won’t _quarrel over the matter. 

He can’t wait until, eventually, Crowley doesn’t even have to ask him anymore. It will merely be understood. 

And it won’t be so bad, in between these moments where they can live together as they desire. Ezra has already planned to take a few trips during the summer to visit some other libraries around the country, and knows that Anthony will happily join him on the venture. 

They’re getting bolder; finally allowing the business partnership they’ve hidden behind to melt away and allow people to see that they are, in fact, _ friends. _Ezra hopes that boldness doesn’t make way for carelessness. 

It’s a risk; it’s _ always _ been a risk. But Ezra is finally ready to admit that it’s a risk well worth taking, and he knows that he’s happier now than he has ever been. And soon, he’ll experience an entirely new type of happiness: domestic happiness, with the man he loves. 

It’s almost _ silly_. Envisioning mornings where they share breakfast, glancing up at each other over their letters to blush and smile at one another. Lazy walks around the garden- Anthony has been more than eager for Ezra to see the grounds he has apparently painstakingly brought to flourishing life. Later they’ll enjoy lunch- maybe a picnic. The afternoons will be for going about their own devices, then dinner will be enjoyed, followed by dessert in the library, where Crowley will dismiss his few servants and they will curl up together and read before one of them drags the other to bed, ravishing each other until they’re too exhausted to move. 

The thought of falling asleep and waking up next to Anthony, for months at a time, sends chills of anticipation through Ezra, settling contendely in the pit of his stomach. He imagines rising early, kissing Anthony awake with soft kisses, laughing as his lover struggles between being annoyed at being woken up or being happy that Ezra is already desirous for him. 

He imagines soft hands brushing over his skin, holding him close and with reverence. He imagines Anthony above him, rocking quietly as he takes his pleasure, milking it from Ezra with each sway of his hips. 

Ezra feels himself stir, and his hand trembles with an instinctive desire to reach down and appease that need.

He balls his hand into a fist. No. The next time he experiences such pleasure, it will be at Anthony’s hand. 

Forcing those thoughts away, Ezra instead grabs the book sitting on his nightstand- a collection of poems by Tennyson. He flips open to a random poem, and begins to read: 

_ Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; _

_ Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; _

_ Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font. _

_ The firefly wakens; waken thou with me. _

_ Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost, _

_ And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. _

_ Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, _

_ And all thy heart lies open unto me. _

_ Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves _

_ A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. _

_ Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, _

_ And slips into the bosom of the lake. _

_ So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip _

_ Into my bosom and be lost in me. (1) _

Sharply, Ezra slams the book shut and presses it to his forehead. He should have known better than to read poetry while longing for Anthony. It does nothing but stir him up, makes him long for his love to be next to him so he can recite the poem to him, lips ghosting against his ear and one hand traipsing up his leg, using the sensuality of the written word with a lover’s touch to wind him up, until finally Anthony tosses the book out of his hand and straddles him, and they create their own poetry, their bodies the couplet in an age old sonnet.

Helpless, Ezra marks the poem, then puts the book aside, making a mental note to take it with him tomorrow. 

Knowing he won’t get any sleep stirred up like this, but not wanting to give into the lonely temptation of his own hand, Ezra rises, shivering as he does so, and goes through the shop, checking for the fourth time that everything is in order. 

He glances at the grandfather clock in the corner: only a few hours left to go until he is unequivocally and irredeemably Crowley’s. 

* * *

Finally morning comes, and with it the joy and eager anticipation of what’s to come. It’s still quite early when Ezra hears the sound of a carriage pull up, and he has to contain himself when he sees Crowley step out. He makes himself wait until there’s a knock on the door, and then Ezra purposely walks _ at a normal pace _to the door, opening it wide. 

It takes every ounce of willpower to bite back the overwhelming smile that threatens to split his face at the sight of Anthony. 

“Morning, Lord Fell.” 

“Lt. Crowley,” he says with surprising control. 

“Shall we be off,” he asks, motioning to the driver to get the luggage by the door. 

“Yes,” Ezra nods. “Let me grab a few things-“ he turns away and collects his overcoat, hat, and the poetry book, then exits the shop and locks the door. 

Crowley motions toward the carriage. “After you.” 

Ezra enters, then Crowley follows suit, taking a seat across from him. With his cane, Crowley taps the roof twice, and with a jerk, the carriage begins to move. 

As they travel through London, they remain silent, looking out their respective windows at the passersby. After an hour or so, they are officially well out of the city and the only thing they can see for miles is the rolling hills of the English countryside. 

Ezra draws his curtain closed, then looks at Crowley. He gestures for Crowley to do the same, and silently Crowley obeys. Once they’re encased in darkness, Ezra moves from his seat to press up beside Crowley and takes his lover’s hand. 

Looking down, Crowley stares at their entwined gloved hands, then up to Ezra’s face, which is open and bright and delighted. 

“You’re here,” Crowley whispers in disbelief, his own giddy, disbelieving smile forming. “I can’t believe you’re coming with me.” 

He leans forward to press his forehead to Ezra’s, who lifts his other hand to stroke Crowley’s face. “I can’t either,” he confesses, “But I’m so glad I am.” 

Unable to help themselves, they close the space between them, kissing in between bouts of laughter and smiles. Hands move to cup cheeks, to wrap around the back of a neck, touching everywhere they can as they lose themselves to this moment of complete freedom. In the darkness of the carriage, they can relax, if only for a moment, and simply be. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night,” Ezra murmurs in between smoldering kisses that Crowley is eagerly pressing to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw. “I was so desperate for this moment to come.” 

“Couldn’t sleep, myself,” Crowley agrees, sliding effortlessly to straddle Ezra’s lap, “Couldn’t help myself, either. Started thinking of you and all the things I’m going to do to you when we’re alone: had to touch myself.” 

“I myself was tempted,” Ezra confesses, hands sliding up Crowley’s thighs and around his waist to press him closer. They groan at the mutual pleasure, and Crowley shifts again, trying to rut against Ezra in a desperate search for relief. It’s difficult, with the way the carriage bounces along the dirt road, but they manage for a few moments to enjoy the way they are thrust together as the carriage moves. 

Just as Ezra is about to remark that perhaps they ought to stop, lest they make a mess of their traveling clothes, they hit a particularly nasty hole in the road, causing them both to flail from the impact. Crowley falls to one side, grunting as he lands on the seat. 

He glances at Ezra who has a hand pressed over his mouth, attempting to hide his laugh. Crowley smirks despite his slight embarrassment and reaches out, grabbing Ezra’s arm and pulling him over where he’s sprawled out. Ezra’s laugh ends abruptly as he looks down at Anthony, and they exchange soft, loving looks before Ezra claims Crowley’s lips in a kiss that leaves them both giggling and breathless when they’re finally forced to admit an unsteadily bouncing carriage is not ideal for such a liaison.

* * *

The travel to the Brimstone Manor takes a little over a day. They stop halfway for dinner and lodging. Crowley pays for their evening fare, dinner in the tavern attached to the inn, then he and Ezra make their way up to their _ separate _rooms. 

Ezra requests a pitcher of water for a quick wash off, and once the dust and grime of travel has been wiped away, he redresses, then cracks open the door of his room. No one is in the hallway and so Ezra quietly shuts his door and steps across the hall and lightly taps on the door. 

From the other side he hears a thud, a curse, and a grumble. The door opens a moment later and Crowley blinks at Ezra in surprise. 

He glances past him, and then seeing that no one is in the hallway, pulls Ezra inside. Shutting the door with less care than he opened it, Crowley turns and leans against it, giving Ezra an amused look. “Hi.” 

“Hello.” 

As if of one accord they lean close and meet for a kiss. “Just wanted to come say ‘good night’,” Ezra murmurs, breaking the kiss for only a moment before he’s drawn back to the sweetness of Anthony’s lips. His hands move to rest on Crowley’s chest, where he idly fiddles with the edges of the maroon cravat his lover is wearing. 

“Is that _ all?” _Crowley asks as he kisses Ezra’s jaw, wrapping his arms around Ezra’s waist and then leaning back so Ezra’s weight traps him against the door. 

“It _ was_,” Ezra grumbled, head falling back as Crowley sucks on the juncture of his jawline and neck that he particularly is weak for. “Now I’m not so certain.” 

They meet again for another kiss, which Ezra is certain will lead to something more when he feels the unpleasant chill of Crowley releasing him. He steps away from Ezra and turns, so that now Ezra must turn his back to the door in order to face Crowley. “Well, _ I _ am,” he says, “And the next time I touch you, it will be when we reach the manor, because I have _ plans _ for you, Lord Fell, and they will take far longer than we have time for at present.” He smirks. “Besides, I doubt you want the other guests to hear just how much you’re going to _ love _what I’m going to do.” 

Already Ezra can feel the surges of eager anticipation and desire course through him. He’s already distracted from the way Crowley kisses him- he’s _ always _ been weak for those kisses- but now he can hardly focus, all the blood traveling southward, to where he can do nothing more than steadfastly _ want _. 

“That is… quite _ forward… _ of you, sir.” 

“Of course it is,” Crowley breathes, “I've finally tempted you to my lair; did you honestly think I _ wouldn’t _ravish you with a great amount of enthusiasm the moment I get you in my room alone?” 

“No,” Ezra swallows, “I rather expected you might.” 

“And does such a prospect meet with your approval?” 

Scowling, Ezra responds hotly, “You know it does, Anthony.” 

“Well then,” Crowley says as he steps forward, and Ezra’s heart jumps into his throat when he thinks his lover might be generous and give him a taste of what he has planned. Instead he hears the _ click _ of the door unlocking and he can’t help but feel a great amount of disappointment. “You’d best go try and get some sleep, Ezra,” he says, with a wicked smirk, “Because tomorrow night I’m going to ensure you don’t get _ any.” _

“Foul fiend,” Ezra responds, nearly delirious from how desperately he wants Anthony. 

“The _ foulest,” _ Anthony says with pride before moving away. “Now, off to bed with you,” he smirks, “And I’ll see you bright and early.” 

Ezra glares at him with great disdain, then harrumphs and leaves the room. Once back in his own room, he sags against the door, feeling all at once exhausted from the trip and stirred up beyond belief at the prospect of being with Anthony. He’s aroused far more now than he’d been the night prior, but where he’d been able to resist the desire for release last night, he’s so pent up with anticipation and need that he is helpless to resist. He tugs his trousers down and strokes himself without any grace or finesse until he releases all over his hand. 

It’s the most unsatisfactory wank he’s ever had, and it does nothing to quell the need he feels swarming in his core like a hive of angry wasps. 

He cleans himself up and changes, then crawls into bed, physically tired but wide awake. 

Tomorrow is going to be _ miserable_. 

* * *

They rise early, have a quick breakfast, then are on their way by nine o’clock. Ezra gives off an air of annoyance for the first hour or so of the trip, though he is moderately certain Anthony sees right through the ruse if his smirk is any indication. 

After that first hour, Anthony scoots closer and wraps his arms around Ezra’s left one. “I can’t wait to show you around,” he says softly, “I’m torn between showing you the gardens or the library first.”

“Show me the gardens,” Ezra says softly as he turns to rest his head on top of Anthony’s. “You are so proud of them, my dear; I’d love to see them first.” 

Despite not being able to see him, Ezra is certain he can feel Crowley grin. “Gardens it is. Then the library.” 

“Then the bedroom?” 

That startles a laugh out of Crowley. He pulls away from Ezra only to instantly curl back in, his nose nuzzling against his husband’s cheek. “And then the bedroom,” he growls, sending a thrill of excitement through Ezra, and not for the first time he wonders how he’s going to get through the rest of the day. 

They spend the rest of the trip talking. For all that they are passionate for one another physically, one of Ezra’s favorite things to do with Anthony is to simply sit and talk. It’s how they spent the first months of their relationship, so long ago when they were so close but still strangers, and even now, Ezra loves to discuss anything with Anthony; loves to rile him up and argue with him. 

He tells him about his trip to see his family, which Crowley finds frustrating, though he is proud of Ezra for being a bit of a bastard. 

“I am _ not _ a bastard,” Ezra huffs, offended. 

Crowley makes a face. “Just _ enough _ of a bastard,” he relents, amused at the way Ezra glares at him and crosses his arms petulantly. 

Eventually Ezra forgives Crowley and offers to read from the book he’d brought with him. Crowley agrees, and they spend the next hour or so wrapped up in the words of Tennyson. Ezra reads the poem he’d come across two nights prior, and when he feels his husband curl up to wrap his arms around him and rest a chin on his shoulder, he knows the meaning does not go amiss. 

After what feels like an age, Crowley announces they are close to Brimstone Manor. The closer they get, the more excited Anthony becomes. He points out landmarks and relays stories of his childhood running around and exploring the estate lands to the exhaustion of his tutors and governess. 

Eventually, after another such story, Ezra turns his head slightly to look at Crowley whose pointy chin is still digging into Ezra’s shoulder. He can only catch a scant glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, but he can see that for the first time in a long while, Crowley looks happy. Ezra wiggles a little in his seat.

“Oh, I simply can’t wait to arrive,” Ezra exclaims softly, squeezing Crowley’s hand where it rests on his knee. “Now we’re almost there, I can’t help but feel ashamed I refused all those years.” 

“You weren’t ready all those years,” Crowley says simply as he leans back, suddenly serious. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to ask- but if you said no every time I wouldn’t have loved you less for it.” 

“I appreciate that, my dear, but there is a part of me that will always regret being so fearful. You’ve never been afraid to love me to the fullest of your ability, but I’ve done a rather poor job of returning that devotion.” 

He feels warm fingers wrapped in fine leather grip his chin and turn his head, where he’s met with scowling amber eyes. 

“None of that now,” Crowley growls, “I’ve never doubted you. I’ve never questioned the surety of your love.” He stops; makes a face. “Maybe that _ first _ quarrel; but we hadn’t even said it yet, so it doesn’t count.” 

“_You _said it.”

Crowley shrugs, “And _ you _ weren’t ready. I’ve always been a flash bastard who goes too fast for my own good. You’ve helped me slow down a bit.” 

“I don’t want you to be slowed down by me,” Ezra says softly. Crowley frowns. 

“You’re purposely misunderstanding me in order to feel sorry for yourself, and I won’t have it,” Crowley remarks plainly. “My point is: I have never, _ ever _ doubted you. In fact,” he says, pressing closer, resting his forehead against Ezra’s, “You’re the only thing I’ve ever had faith in.” 

Ezra’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Oh, _ darling.” _

They share a kiss, soft and reassuring. The hand that gripped Ezra’s chin slides up to cup his cheek as Ezra wraps an arm around Anthony’s shoulders to pull him closer. Ezra melts into the kiss, letting himself be swept up in the utter delight of Crowley’s lips against his own; the way his teeth scrape against his bottom lip in a teasing gesture before his tongue takes their place, slipping inside to lick against his own. Ezra groans helplessly, pressing closer against Crowley as his desire flares to life in his chest. 

As they kiss, the carriage transitions from rough, dirt roads to a smoother sort of bounce. The sound of gravel crunching beneath the wheels of the carriage causes Crowley to gasp, and he pulls away from Ezra, pointing out the window. In the distance is an imposing manor, dark stone atop a hill that looks like it ought to belong to a gothic anti-hero. 

“Is that it?” Ezra asks, a thrill shooting through him at the prospect of finally seeing Crowley’s home. 

“That’s it,” Crowley confirms, “Brimstone Manor.” 

The carriage travels around a curving upslope, through the large imposing steel gates and into the front courtyard. The manor is smaller compared to some of the grander houses of old, but it is no less stately and demanding of the respect of its kind. The manor is clearly aged, and there are places that are in obvious need of repair. Ivy trails up the front, adding a sort of decaying beauty to the dark grey stone underneath. A large wooden door breaks up the mass of stone, large and ornate, with two stone knockers held in the mouths of iron dog’s heads. 

In the courtyard in front of those imposing doors stands the small staff of Brimstone Manor who are awaiting to greet their master. 

As the carriage stops, Crowley puts on his top hat, gives Ezra a wink, then steps out with a large, mischievous grin. “Well, hello there!” He greets the staff cheerfully, not at all how a master of the house typically greets his servants, Ezra thinks. Not that he opposes. But it is rather amusing to witness. 

Donning his own hat, he steps out of the carriage as well, nodding politely to the staff who are eyeing him with clear interest and curiosity. Ezra knows all about them; Crowley has shared a great many stories about the people he employees over the years and despite having never laid eyes on them, Ezra feels as if he knows them all quite well. His eyes glance down the row, counting out the seven faces he expected to see. He is certain, based on Anthony’s (previously considered _ unkind) _descriptions that he can tell who is who, but nevertheless, he allows Crowley to make the proper introductions. 

“Everyone,” Crowley says with a bit of exaggerated bravado, “I’d like you to meet Lord Ezra Fell. He will be staying with us for the winter, so I expect you to treat him with the same respect you show me.” 

“So, none at all?” 

Ezra looks to the tiny woman at the end of the line. She is dressed in all black, with black hair tied back in a messy sort of bun, a few strands falling around her face, which she swats at like flies. Her cheeks are covered in pockmarks and her expression is stern and seems perpetually annoyed. 

“Ms. Beelz,” Crowley exclaims, stepping up to her and gripping her by the shoulders. She tenses, glaring up at him with clear disdain. “How is the worst housekeeper in all of England?” 

“Don’t touch me,” she answers instead, jerking out of his hold. 

Crowley grins. “As lovely as always,” he says with clear sarcasm before he turns to Ezra. “Lord Fell,” he says with the same affection he often says _ darling _ or _ angel_, “This is, of course, Ms. Beelz, the housekeeper. Anything you need- don’t ask her because she probably won’t care enough to see it done.” 

Ezra bites back a grin and nods to her. “A pleasure, Ms. Beelz.” 

“_ Ophelia,” _ she says with a knowing smirk. 

Ezra blinks, shocked. He knows Crowley told his servants- his only friends, if they can be called such- about him. He knows that Crowley had spent his first winter here, drunk and lamenting over the loss of his beloved _ Ophelia. _It only stands to reason that his servants would know him as such. Regardless, they’d abandoned those names long ago. Even when they visit The White Rabbit, they only sign in with them; they rarely speak them anymore. There’s no need. 

Crowley gives her a stern, slightly embarrassed look, before he moves on down the line, mixing his own greetings with introducing Ezra to everyone. 

He shakes the hand of a tall, gangly man with messy blond hair and a uniform that looks very ill-fitted and wrinkled. “This bastard is my valet, Mr. Hastur.”

Hastur says nothing, but nods once to Crowley, then once to Ezra. 

“This arsehole is Mr. Ligur, who...” he pauses, then leans close to the man, “_ Why _ did I hire you?”

“I’m the _ footman,” _ Mr. Ligur snarls at Crowley, but it lacks any real venom. 

“I thought I hired you to keep Hastur company,” Crowley says with a dirty grin. 

“Oh, I do that for _ free_,” Ligur says with an equally dirty look. 

“Ugh,” Ms. Beelz groans. Ezra glances at her and she responds with a cross-eyed, gagging expression. Ezra bites back a laugh and instead responds with a tilt of his head and a raised brow. 

After Crowley finishes harassing Ligur, he steps up to a short, overweight, balding gentleman. He’s a bit red in the face and very ugly, but he is the only one of the group who looks as if he takes his job with any seriousness. He stands rigidly at attention, and waits for the master to address him. “This is Mr. Usher, the butler of our fine manor.” 

Mr. Usher bows low, an awkward display for a man of his short and wide stature, but there is a type of grace to it nonetheless. “A pleasure, _ Lord Fell,” _ he says, shooting a nasty look to Ms. Beelz as he rises. He’s the shortest of the group by far, but at the way Ms. Beelz stiffens, it’s clear he commands the respect of his underlings. He returns his attention to his master and the guest, and smiles. “We hope you enjoy your stay. If you are in need of anything, we shall be _ happy to assist,” _ he expresses the latter part with a firmness that leaves no guessing at to whom he is actually addressing, despite keeping his eyes on Ezra. 

“Thank you very much, Mr. Usher,” Ezra replies kindly as Crowley steps up to another young woman in the line. 

She is young and moderately pretty, with long brown hair tied back with a ribbon and freckles covering her face. She offers Crowley a small smile and nod. “Ms. Dagon: maid, cook, and librarian,” he says, then gestures to Ezra. “You’re going to be seeing a _ lot _ of him. Very into books. _ Might _criticize your organization method, which I’m hoping leads to a fight. I’ll be placing bets.” 

“You will do no such thing,” Ezra huffs before acknowledging Ms. Dagon. “I’m sure you do an exceptional job.” 

“You’re damn right I do,” she says confidently. Ezra likes her immediately. 

The last two gentlemen in the line up are identical. From their clothes to their hair to their features, Ezra already fears he’ll have trouble telling them apart. “These two assholes are the Ericsson twins,” he says with a lazy gesture. “Straton and Demostrate. They’re groundskeepers, messengers, errand boys. You need something done? Find one of ‘em.” 

“Hullo, Lord Fell,” they say in unison, which Ezra has to admit he finds a little off putting. He smiles and nods, then moves his gaze over everyone once more, ensuring he has all their names and faces committed to memory. 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you all,” Ezra says politely before Crowley steps back to stand beside him. 

“I’ve promised Ezra a tour of the gardens, then the library. After that we’ll have supper-“ he gives a pointed look to Ms. Dagon who rolls her eyes at being expected to do her job, “And then we’ll retire early.” 

Ms. Beelz snorts. Crowley throws her a glare. “Something funny?” 

“Oh, plenty,” She remarks dryly. 

“Well, you can share it with me _ after _ you’ve settled Lord Fell’s belongings in our room,” he says with an air of ambivalence. At that, Mr. Usher claps his hands and begins to shout out instructions in his nasally voice, stirring the others to work. As they go about unloading the carriage, Crowley slips his arm through Ezra’s, and turns them around to head toward the gardens. With his back turned, he lifts his other hand, clutching his cane, in the air, and waves dismissively. “Ciao!” He calls over his shoulder. 

“_ Our _ room?” Ezra remarks dryly, trying and failing to stifle any amusement. 

“Why not?” Crowley asks, “Not like it’s a _ secret. _ No point in feigning propriety when they all know you’re going to spend every night in my bed.” He pauses; clears his throat. “Assuming you _ want _ to-“ 

“Of course I do,” Ezra remarks, quick to assure him, “I just think we could have _ pretended _otherwise. What must they think of us?” 

“Probably that we’re in love and the _ entire bloody point _ of us being here is to be _ together. _They don’t care, love, honest. Besides, if I could count the number of times I’ve walked into a room only to find misters Hastur and Ligur-“ 

“Alright, I understand!” Ezra interrupts, cheeks tinted pink. They fall into silence for a few moments before Ezra manages his embarrassment and murmurs, “They’re all just as interesting as you’ve described.” 

“They’re a motley crew,” Crowley agrees as they walk, taking a slow and leisurely pace. The gardens are around the back side of the house, and they take the servants path around the side, boots crunching beneath the gravel as they walk. “And by the time I leave we’re all ready to kill each other, but I trust them. And they trust me. It works.” 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given how many gentlemen frequented the White Rabbit, but I find myself shocked to know there are so many people…” he hesitates, trying to think of the right way to phrase what he means. 

“Like us?” Crowley offers. 

“Yes,” Ezra agrees, “Like us.” 

“Trust me,” Crowley muses, “Growing up here I thought I was alone too. But then when we were teens I caught Ms. Beelz kissing one of the scullery maids. They thought I was going to tell and…” he pauses for a moment, “I've never seen Bertha look so… terrified. She was so small… and scared… she looked exactly the way I’d felt for years.” 

“What did you do?” Ezra asks. He’s heard many stories about the motley crew that is Crowley’s staff, but he’s never told this one. 

“I took her hand, and the scullery maid’s. I think her name was Elizabeth. I swore to them that I would never tell; their secret was safe with me. Bertha asked how she could trust me, so I told her that I fancied lads the way she fancied girls, and if I ever revealed her, she could reveal me.” 

“That was kind of you.” 

“Ngk,” Crowley shrugs, “Didn’t do it to be kind; I did it because I was so damned relieved to know I wasn’t the only one who was broken like that.” 

“You aren’t broken,” Ezra insists softly, horrified that Anthony would say such a thing. It feels more like something Ezra might say, not Anthony, who has never been unsure or afraid for as long as Ezra has known him. 

“I know that _ now,_” Crowley huffs, “But then? It just felt good to have someone else _ know._”

“What happened then?” 

“Elizabeth left a few years later; her mother was ill so she went home to care for her. Bertha stayed. When I inherited the house I dismissed the housekeeper- she was a _ real _bitch- and gave Bertha the position.”

“I can see why she feels so at ease with you,” Ezra remarks, “You two have quite the history.” 

“Other than you, I trust her more than anyone else,” Crowley shrugs, “She found everyone else who works here. We’re all the same, in one way or another. That’s my only criteria: she finds people like us who need a safe place to go, and I give them a job for as long as they need it. Had as many as fifteen staff at once, and they’re free to leave with a good recommendation so long as they promise to keep the secret.” 

“It seems like you’ve created your own little paradise here,” Ezra comments, resting his hand over Crowley’s where it’s curled around his bicep. “And I’m so glad to finally be a part of it.” 

“Me too,” Crowley remarks lovingly before tugging Ezra to him and kissing him softly. 

They reach the back of the house and Crowley opens the gate that leads into the garden. True to his word, it’s astounding. Hedges line the paths, along which there are glorious displays of flowers, trees, and shrubs that somehow look meticulously untamed. Lush and verdant, the garden is a testament to years of labor and love and dedication. 

“Oh, darling,” Ezra breathes as they walk down the main path, “This is absolutely incredible!”

Beside him, Crowley preens at the praise. “‘S’not bad,” he murmurs. 

“Oh, don’t pretend to be so modest,” Ezra tuts, “This is something to be proud of, my love.” He releases Crowley and steps forward to brush his fingers against the petals of a rose. “How lovely.” 

Crowley walks up and plucks the rose from the bush. “Don’t let them hear you say that,” he murmurs as he holds the flower out for Ezra to take, “They’ll get cocky.” 

With great affection, Ezra rolls his eyes but takes the flower and presses a kiss to Crowley’s cheek in return. “If you say so,” he smiles, then moves on to fawn over the other plants. Crowley watches him, his lover, his husband, walk through the garden he’s spent the last twelve years perfecting, and can’t help but feel that nothing could possibly be more wonderful than this moment. If he could stop time, he’d freeze it here, in his favorite place on earth, with the man he loves above all others. 

* * *

It’s still early yet, and Ezra is reluctant to leave the garden now he’s in it, so Crowley escorts him to a bench underneath a trimmed weeping willow tree, and they sit together, Crowley’s arm around Ezra’s shoulders, as they take in the sight of the lush Eden before them. 

“I love it here,” Ezra breathes softly, not wishing to disturb the peace. 

“So do I,” Crowley replies, just as softly, “Love it even more now I get to share it with you.” 

Ezra smiles and rests his head on Anthony’s shoulders. “I desperately want to see the library,” he confesses, “But I’m afraid I might get a bit caught up in it, if it’s as impressive as you say.” 

“Well, you have all winter to get lost in there,” Crowley says simply, “Tonight you’re only getting a glimpse.” 

“_ Or,” _Ezra counteroffers, “I suppose I can be left in suspense for one more evening, and we simply return for an early supper and then retire. I can then have all day tomorrow to browse to my heart’s content.” 

Crowley laughs at that. “Oh? Is there something more appealing to you than a room full of books?” 

Ezra huffs and stands up. “Don’t make me change my mind.” 

Crowley scrambles to his feet and catches Ezra around the waist. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

They share a kiss, one full of promise, then make their way back to the manor. 

* * *

After a brief tour of the house so Ezra can find his way around, Ezra retires to their room to change out of his traveling clothes. Crowley gives him privacy (after a salacious once over) and goes down to the kitchen to request a simple dinner from Ms. Dagon.

As he begins undressing, there’s a knock at the door. Ezra, assuming Anthony has returned for whatever reason, bids him enter. He manages to hide his disappointment when he sees Crowley’s valet, Hastur, instead. 

“Can I help you?” Ezra asks politely. 

Hastur shrugs in a very unprofessional manner. “The master wanted me to see if you needed any assistance.” 

Ezra glances down at his attire. His travel suit is a bit wrinkled and dusty, and so he asks for it to be cleaned. Hastur shrugs again. “Sure. I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Ezra says, then hesitates. “Um…. if you don’t mind my asking… H-how long have you and Mr. Ligur been… together?”

Hastur stops and actually has to consider the question for a moment. “Hmm. ‘Bout eleven years, give or take.” 

“Quite impressive,” Ezra breathes. And it is. He can hardly imagine a life in which he and Anthony are under the same roof every day for eleven years. It sounds _ divine. _

“I s’pose. Though I reckon it’s not so impressive when we ain’t got that much to lose for it.” 

“Pardon?” Ezra asks, confused.

“You refused to come here for years,” Hastur says bluntly, in a clear breach of protocol, not that Ezra minds, “Master Crowley was always torn up about it. Though he said once that you’re from a real uppity family with lotsa money, and if they knew-“ he stops and makes an unpleasant face. 

“I imagine you think me quite selfish for refusing all this time,” Ezra remarks simply, “And I wouldn’t blame you if you did.” 

“Maybe,” Hastur says simply, “Think it depends on what you stand to lose. You got a lot more at stake than me or the others. Way I see it? We’re far luckier than you.” 

“Oh?” Ezra asks. 

“All you got is wealth,” Hastur says as he opens his arms wide, “I got freedom. Long as we’re here, we’re safe. And I don’t have to lie about why I’m here. It’s my job. I may live my life as a servant, but it doesn’t matter because I get to be with the one I love. We’re free.” 

“I almost envy you,” Ezra admits softly, “I love him so dearly, but I’ve been so afraid of… falling out of grace with my family; with society. Anthony has never been afraid. It’s always been me holding us back.” 

“That’s not for me to have an opinion on,” Hastur shrugs, a habit of his Ezra has noticed, “Besides, we aren’t the same, you an’ me. I can’t fear to lose what I’ve never had. You got that bookshop Crowley is always going on about. You do important work. I can see why you wouldn’t want to give that up.” 

“I would in an instant, if it came down to it. If it were between the shop or Anthony…”

Hastur smirks. “You know, for a stuffy noble, you’re not so bad. I can see why he likes you. You got spirit.” 

Ezra blinks. “Thank you… I think?” 

Hastur gestures to Ezra’s suit. “Get changed. I’ll take care of your clothes.” 

Ezra nods and goes behind the modestly screen that stands in the corner and hastily changes into his usual cream colored suit. He steps out and drapes the traveling clothes on Hastur’s extended arm. “Thank you,” Ezra says softly before moving toward the door. His arm is caught by Hastur’s free hand. 

“Crowley is a bastard,” he says softly, as if sharing a secret, “Arrogant and cocky, and far too careless. But he keeps us safe. I’m counting on you to do the same for him.” 

Ezra studies Hastur for a long moment, sees the sincerity in his eyes. He has a feeling it’s a look he won’t see very often. “I promise.” 

* * *

Though left unsaid, Ezra understands that the conversation between himself and Hastur is meant to be solely between them. So he mentions nothing to Anthony after he’s changed and they meet for dinner. Instead he questions him about the history of the manor as they enjoy a simple dinner in the study. 

Anthony answers all Ezra’s questions, explaining that the manor has belonged to his family as far back as he can recall. It used to be an impressive fortress, but under Crowley’s management has lost some of its imposing bleakness and become more of a haven, not just for his staff, but for himself.

Once they finish dinner, they enjoy a glass of wine from the Crowley family wine cellar, and relish sitting side by side in front of the fire, uncaring who might pass by and see them hand in hand. 

They’re safe here. That’s the point. 

Eventually Crowley stands and stretches, then turns to give Ezra a _ look _. “I think I might retire,” he says in a low voice that leaves no doubt as to what he means. 

“Yes,” Ezra says, feeling excitement bubble in his chest before sinking distractingly lower, “I think that is an excellent idea.” 

Turning on his heel, Crowley leads the way toward their bedroom. It’s such a strange thought: that he’s sharing a room with Anthony. That it’s understood, and known, and _ accepted _. They can wake up in the mornings to a knock on the door and neither has to scramble to hide. They can sleep all night and never worry about waking up early enough to slip back to another room. They can walk through the manor arm in arm and no one will think it odd (though Ezra is mildly certain Ms. Beelz will make a face simply because she can.) 

They enter the bedroom, and as Ezra shuts and locks the door, Crowley busies himself lighting a few candles. There’s already a fire going in the hearth, making the room bright and pleasantly warm. It adds to the heat Ezra feels radiating from within. He hasn’t forgotten Anthony’s words. He’s near delirious with anticipation. 

At last, Anthony turns around, and from across the room Ezra sees those beautiful amber eyes shimmering in the firelight. His red hair seems to come alive in the light of the flames, and Ezra swears his lover _ radiates _ beauty. 

Anthony crooks a finger toward Ezra, beckoning him closer. Helpless to do anything else, Ezra obeys. When within arms reach, Anthony takes a single step closer. “How I have _ waited_,” he breathes, leaning closer to allow his nose to brush ever so lightly against Ezra’s cheek. “How I have _ longed_,” he whispers, warm breath on Ezra’s ear. 

“And now you’re _ here,” _ Anthony says, lips ghosting against Ezra’s cheek, jaw, lips. “And I have _ plans.” _

“What sort of plans?” Ezra asks, throat thick with molten desire and making his words stick together as if coated in honey. 

“Patience,” Anthony teases, sliding his hands up and underneath Ezra’s jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, “First I’m going to unwrap you like the fucking _ gift _ you are.” 

The jacket, a find woolen piece that Ezra has taken great pains to keep in excellent condition for at least six years, falls to the floor with a dull thud. Ezra might have had half a mind to scold Anthony for such carelessness, but he finds its hard to speak when there are long-fingered hands tugging at the knot of his cravat, sliding it off to fall next to said jacket, before lips find their way to the barely exposed skin of Ezra’s throat. 

“_ Oh…” _

It’s hardly the first time they’ve indulged like this: they’ve spent many a night slowly picking one another apart, but tonight is different. Tonight is nearly a decade in the making. It’s taken Ezra eight years to finally take this step, to follow Crowley and take the hand that has long been outstretched, waiting. 

Neither of them need wait anymore. 

“I’m going to unwrap you piece by piece,” Crowley whispers as he undoes Ezra’s vest, then shirt. “Then I am going to _ touch you,” _he bites softly at Ezra’s exposed shoulder, causing a gasp to escape the other man. “Then I am going to take you apart.” 

“Oh, _ darling, please.” _

Against his skin, Ezra can feel Crowley grin. “I like hearing you beg,” he says, “And you’re going to be doing _ plenty _of that tonight.” 

“I’ll beg as much as you like, my love, please just take me to bed.” 

With a soft hum, Crowley steps away and splays a hand on Ezra’s chest. He pushes lightly, backing Ezra up until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. With an added ounce of pressure, Ezra understands he’s meant to sit, and does so obediently. 

Leaning heavily on his cane for support, Crowley sinks to his knees. “Darling, your leg-“ Ezra begins to protest, but a sharp look from Anthony silences him. 

“You can spend the next four months taking care of me,” he says simply, “Tonight, I am doing _ exactly _ what I want with you. And right now? I want to be on my knees.” 

With that he lifts Ezra’s foot, undoes one shoe before slipping it off, following that with his sock. He repeats the action with the other foot, then leans up to catch Ezra’s chin in his fingers and pull him down for a kiss. Ezra sighs into the kiss, though it ends just as quickly as it began. Crowley pulls away, then stands. Ezra reaches out to offer a steadying hand but Crowley bats it away gently. “I’m good, love.” 

He then steps into the space between Ezra’s legs and cups his cheeks. “Lay down for me?” He asks softly, “Against the pillows?” 

Ezra obliges, scooting away from Crowley to recline at the head of the bed. He watches with eager anticipation as Crowley tosses off his own suit jacket, cravat, and vest, then unbuttons his shirt, but leaves it on as he moves to the head of the bed and straddles Ezra’s hips. “Right where I want you,” Crowley grins as he runs featherlight fingers over Ezra’s chest and stomach. He watches as his lover shivers, goose flesh covering him even as the fire makes the room deliciously warm. “Right where I’d like to keep you.” 

Ezra doesn’t say anything; despite his prim nature, he usually takes charge in bed. He knows Crowley loves it, loves to have Ezra’s assurance and devotion. Knows that Anthony is content to be taken and loved or used or any combination thereof. Sometimes things switch up, as the desire strikes them, but having Anthony be so forward, so _ in charge _is a rare sight indeed. 

Those thin fingers travel down, unbuttoning the stays of Ezra’s trousers. Ezra gasps, but is disappointed when Crowley doesn’t do anything more. Instead he leans forward, hands leaving Ezra’s groin to slide up his torso to tangle in his husband’s hair. 

He kisses him softly, brushing his tongue against Ezra’s bottom lip before pressing gentle kisses over his cheeks, down the column of his throat and back up again. “_ I wonder,” _ he whispers softly, pressing another barely brushing kiss against Ezra’s lips, _ “By my troth, what thou and I did till we loved?” _

Beneath him, Ezra gasps, instantly knowing exactly what Anthony is reciting, and he moans as Crowley intersperses kisses along his throat and chest and lips as he whispers the words as softly as a candle’s flame.

_ “Were we not weaned till then? _

_ But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? _

_ Or snorted we in the Seven Sleepers’ den? _

_ ’Twas so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. _

_ If ever any beauty I did see, _

_ Which I desired, and got, ’twas but a dream of thee.” _

“Oh darling,” Ezra sighs as Crowley continues, “Yes!”

_ “And now good-morrow to our waking souls,” _he breathes, sliding one hand down to find Ezra’s and entwining them together before sitting up, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing Ezra’s knuckles, 

_ “Which watch not one another out of fear; _

_ For love, all love of other sights controls, _

_ And makes one little room an everywhere.” _

Taking their joined hands, Crowley stretches them upward, so Ezra’s fingers brush the headboard. Releasing his grip, Crowley presses lightly on Ezra’s palm, wordlessly requesting he keep his hand there, then repeats the process with the other arm. Kiss, stretch, press. 

_ “Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,” _ Crowley says, _ “Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,” _ he trails kisses down Ezra’s chest, over the swell of his stomach he loves so dearly; trails his fingertips down Ezra’s sides. He’s not ticklish there, but the barely-there touch still elicits a shuddering gasp. _ “Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one.” _

Crowley sits back, hands falling to where Ezra’s trousers are half undone. With deft fingers, Crowley finishes undoing Ezra’s trousers and taps his side, indicating he wants Ezra to lift his hips. Complying, Crowley shifts, and pulls down his trousers and knit drawers. He pushes them down to Ezra’s knees, then slides himself back up to resume kissing Ezra’s stomach, hips, and thighs. 

_ “My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,” _ he whispers, lips pressed to Ezra’s skin, taking his time to touch and press love onto every exposed inch of Ezra’s skin. For his part, Ezra lies still, head tilted down so to watch Anthony as he has his way with him. He’s hard, _ achingly _ so, but he knows Crowley has a plan, and so he relaxes, sinks into the warmth of the pillows and the heat building between them and waits for Anthony to do what he will. 

_ “And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; _

_ Where can we find two better hemispheres, _

_ Without sharp north, without declining west?” _

He kisses and touches everywhere but where Ezra wants him most. He groans in a mix of despair and pleasure, and his eyes slip closed, overwhelmed by the physical sensations of Anthony touching him, and the heady emotional intensity of Anthony reciting poetry as a form of worship- for that’s what this is, Ezra realizes as Anthony continues: _ “Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;” _

It’s worship. Anthony is taking his time with Ezra; using him as the altar on which he pours out his love and devotion. For so long, they have struggled with this very thing- with Ezra giving himself over to their love. But now he’s given in, he’s given himself over to what he’s long since wanted, and tonight- and every night for the next four months- they are only beholden to each other. They have nothing to do but love each other wholly and thoroughly, Ezra’s already throbbing cock twitches in anticipation of just how _ delightful _it’s going to be to experience Anthony taking him apart. 

Maybe they can fall apart together, and then rebuild themselves into one being, one soul. 

_ “If our two loves be one, or, thou and I _

_ Love so alike, that none do slacken-” _

Crowley hovers forward, and finishes the poem against Ezra’s lips- _ “None can die.” (2) _

“Anthony,” Ezra moans, hands shifting with a desire to reach out and touch. But Anthony has made it clear he intends to do what _ he _wants to Ezra this evening. 

And _ oh God, _Ezra wants that too. 

Their lips meet again in a heated kiss, this one more pressing and passionate than the ones prior. Anthony has managed to stir Ezra up to the point of delirium: Crowley often teases that Ezra has a poem for every situation, but now he’s gone and _ memorized _ a poem just for this occasion. The occasion that is Ezra joining him at Brimstone Manor. So overwhelmed with love and adoration for this man, his lover and husband, Ezra can’t help but lift his head and sear his love in a kiss that leaves them both gasping when he finally lets Anthony pull away. 

“Oh, darling _ please _let me touch you; I fear I’m desperate for you,” he breathes, panting and struggling to keep still. 

“Not yet,” Crowley replies with a wicked smirk, though his pupils are blown wide and wanting, a clear sign that he’s as affected as Ezra. He sits back, moving to remove Ezra’s clothing from him, before stripping off the rest of his own clothing. He then slides up to lay over Ezra, chests pressed together as they kiss lazily, content that they have all the time in the world. 

Besides, Ezra recalls, Anthony had said he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. 

Once Crowley seems to have his fill of kissing Ezra for the moment, he sits up, then reaches over to the nightstand to grab a small vial of oil. He returns to where he’s straddling Ezra and wiggles the jar with a devious grin. 

Ezra tries to huff indignantly, but it sounds more like a needy gasp of desire. He doesn’t bother to course correct and instead shifts his hips, trying to find even the barest amount of friction. 

“My love,” Ezra breathes, sounding desperate to his own ears, “Please don’t make me wait.” 

A warm, thin hand splays out over Ezra’s chest, where his heart is thumping like a prisoner trying to break free of its iron bars. “Never,” Anthony whispers, shifting their positions so he can trace a finger over Ezra’s hole, reveling in the shiver that ripples through his husband’s body at the touch. Lazily, he coats his finger with oil, then returns, lightly stroking and toying with him before sliding a finger inside. Ezra’s breath hitches at the sensation, and his hands clench with a desire to reach out, to grab Anthony and pull him closer. 

“I have _waited_,” Crowley breathes, opening his husband slowly with long, slow strokes, which he knows drives him wild. Ezra is a patient man when it comes to pleasure- he has perfected the art of _savoring_ the taste of fine food, the notes of fine wine. This is no different, in Anthony’s experience. While quick trysts in dark rooms have certainly been their modus operandi over the years, they have made certain to indulge in long, sensual evenings together, taking their time and seeing just how long they can tease one another before desire melts into desperation and they can no longer hold back. This is no such night. This isn’t about teasing or prolonging their encounter, this is about being _thorough_. This is about making up for all the time they’ve lost, all the time they’ve wasted, all the time they’ve spent unable to love each other as they wish out of fear of being found out. It’s a legitimate fear, Crowley wouldn’t dare argue otherwise, but now they’ve moved past that fear- they’ve discovered the glory and sanctuary that love can provide, and they are going to huddle in this small, shared space- this _little room an_ _everywhere_\- tucked away in their hearts for as long as they can. 

“Oh, my love, my beloved, I am _ sorry-“ _

Anthony stops his ministrations and uses the other hand to lightly smack Ezra on the ass. It stings beautifully, and Ezra is tempted to ask him to do it again. 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Crowley says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “We are together now. I would have waited an eternity for you and I would have done it gladly. But we’re _ here. _ You’re here, in my home, _ in my bed_, and seeing you here, spread out before me, willing and beautiful and _ mine… _ ” he adds another finger and relishes the moan that he pulls from Ezra’s lips. “And I have _ never _ experienced something more divine. More sublime. More awe-inspiring than having you bare before me in what I have always dreamed of as _ our marriage bed_.” 

“_Anthony,” _Ezra gasps, and when Crowley meets his gaze, neither are surprised to see tears in the other’s eyes. 

“I love you, Ezra Fell.” 

“Oh God, Anthony, I love you!” 

It’s too much. The love that permeates the room so strongly it’s near tangible coupled with the incredible sensation of Crowley’s fingers moving within him, pressing and touching in a manner that suggests years of dedicated practice to the art, it’s all too much for Ezra to bear. His body and his heart and his soul are bursting with the overwhelming _ love _ that he holds for his husband, his lover, his dearest friend, and that surging flow of bright and beautiful cannot stay contained. It courses through him like a wildfire, like a stampede in his veins, and with a cry, Ezra comes. 

Crowley’s touch slows, watching as his lover writhes and then sags against the bed. His eyelids flutter, and he sighs contentedly. 

Crowley smirks and slides a third finger inside. Ezra _ moans. _ “Oh, _ God,” _he exhales sharply. 

The fingers still. “Not sure I like you calling out someone else’s name in our bed,” he says with a playful smirk. Ezra lifts his head to glare at Crowley. 

“Sh- shut up.” 

Smirking, Crowley releases Ezra and begins kissing his way back up his body. He nibbles on Ezra’s thick thighs, licks a stripe up his cock. He tastes the spend on Ezra’s stomach, licking him clean before slowly kissing a path over his heart, up his throat, and finally once more to his lips. He kisses him for a long while. Of all the ways they’ve explored their love for one another, kissing Crowley’s lips is perhaps Ezra’s favorite. Oh, there’s something to be said for Crowley’s mouth on his cock, or Crowley straddling Ezra’s hips, riding him with a sinuous slowness that drives them both mad. But the simple act of kissing his love, of breathing in his sighs and swallowing his moans like they’re the finest wine is a pleasure incomparable in Ezra’s mind. He loves the soft brush of Crowley’s lips, how his tongue always takes halting tastes as if Ezra were a delicacy. He still remembers that first kiss, that day in the a White Rabbit. How unexpected it had been, but so pleasantly returned. And now, a thousand kisses later, it’s no less incredible, no less knee-weakening and heart-racing. He lives for the thrill of having Crowley’s lips against his.

He will live and die by these lips; he will pour out his love and praise against these lips, whisper his adoration and breathe his devotion against them. 

Once Crowley seems to have kissed his fill, he sits back once more, slicks himself with oil, and then moves Ezra’s legs until one is bent and the other is lifted over Crowley’s shoulder. Then he’s slowly pressing in, mouth falling open as they join. 

Someone moans, Ezra can’t tell who, and then he lets out another breathless _ please. _He feels Crowley tremble and snap his hips, which draws out a blissful sigh. 

There’s a small part of him, the part that understands this is a dangerous thing that they must keep hidden, that wants to simply rut against Crowley and find his release. But Crowley is not so inclined, moving slowly within him in a way that drives Ezra utterly wild. They’re safe here. They have _ time_, here. They can savor this and prolong it and relish it with nothing to stop them but their own mortal limitations. 

And even then, Ezra thinks, he’d still want to go on, joined with his lover, never ceasing to be united in this perfect thing they’ve forged between them. 

His hands flex, then clench, bunching up corners of pillows even as he wishes he could grip the flesh of Crowley’s thighs, his ass, _ something _. He makes a pitiful sound, something between a whimper and a groan as Crowley’s hips snap in just the right way to set fire to him, and Ezra can’t help but beg. 

“Darling, _ please!” _

Crowley is still moving, slow, deep strokes within Ezra, nearly sliding all the way out before pressing back in deliciously slow. One thing about Anthony, Ezra knows intimately, is that he is a man of his word. And when Anthony says he plans to go slow…

Well, Ezra knows better than to think he’ll do anything but _ exactly that. _The fact remains, however, that he is aching to touch him, hold him, caress him. He needs it. Being denied this simple pleasure is driving him as mad as the feeling of being filled with Crowley, and he doesn’t know how he can feel so full and yet so wanting. 

True to his word, Crowley takes his time, and he _ doesn’t _ give permission for Ezra to touch. There are several moments when Ezra thinks Crowley may finish, but instead he stills, takes a few minutes to kiss whatever part Ezra is closest to his lips, then after a minute he starts the process over again. After a while, Ezra becomes hard again, and he voices his need for _ more _. 

“Alright then,” Crowley breathes as he moves his hips languidly, “Touch yourself, love. Let me see you.” 

It’s not what Ezra was hoping for, but it’s one step closer to being able to touch Anthony, so he takes it without complaint, and snatches one hand to his aching cock where he begins to stroke it in a near frantic need for release. 

Anthony is having none of it. 

One hand comes to rest over Ezra’s, slowing the movement to a near halt. “Now, now,” Crowley remarks with a grin, “We aren’t racing to the finish here.” 

“_Clearly_,” Ezra manages to growl. 

“Your pleasure is meant to be drawn out,” Anthony says as he begins to guide Ezra’s hand, slow and soft. “I’ve watched you eat enough meals, drink enough wine. I know you aren’t one for pursuing something just to have it over and done with. And this is such a _ lovely _ cock. It doesn’t deserve the kind of wank you’d expect at the Rabbit. It deserves to be pampered. Pleasured.” He leans close to whisper, “ _Worshiped.” _

“For God’s sake, Anthony, you are driving me _ mad! _” 

Crowley grins and times the movement of their hands with his thrusts. “Good.” 

He keeps them both on edge for a while longer. Ezra is in tears from his need for release, but Anthony pays his desperation no mind, moving just as slowly now as he did when he first sank into him. Eventually, however, Ezra notices Crowley’s hips are canting a little to one side, a tell-tale sign that he’s overworked himself. 

“Darling,” Ezra manages to say seriously. Crowley sighs. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but ceases his movements. “Suppose I’ll have to let you take over after all,” he relents. 

“A duty I will uphold with greatest care and honor,” Ezra says, biting back a whimper as Anthony slides out of him. 

He falls onto his back with a grunt, then pats his thighs expectantly, “All aboard.” 

Ezra laughs at that, a bit hysterical from the competing emotions of concern, arousal, and amusement. He straddles Crowley’s legs, hands pressed onto his chest for balance only, then slowly sinks down onto him. The release of tension from how he’d been holding himself must wind around the pleasure of sliding into Ezra’s warmth, because Crowley lets out the most contented groan. 

“Same rules as before?” Ezra asks, hating himself for it, but also not wanting Anthony to fully release control simply because he must switch positions. 

“You can touch,” Crowley says, “But I guide the pace.” 

“Then guide me, my love.” 

Long-fingered hands grip a plump waist, and begin to push and pull and move Ezra in a tempo that is as unyieldingly slow as before. This time however, Ezra can touch, so he can withstand the need to grind onto Crowley now that he is able to distract himself with pinching his nipples until they pebble, or stroking his fingers over Crowley’s chest, down his arms. He can clutch his hands as he rides him, being moved entirely by Anthony’s whim. He can fall forward and kiss Crowley’s cheeks, his nose, his lips. He can touch those same spots with well-manicured fingers and he can slide his hand back to _ grip _ Anthony’s hair, which earns him a couple sudden, shallow thrusts. 

“I love you so much,” Ezra breathes, bending down to kiss Crowley hungrily. He needs more, but will relinquish that desire to Crowley; he will find his release when Crowley allows it, and _ oh, _ to have it be out of his hands, to have his entire being firmly held in the unwavering and devoted hands of his husband is the most satisfying and sensual thing. “I love that you waited. I love that you never gave up on me. I love that you always came back, even when I hurt you.”

“‘Course I did,” Crowley says, his first words in several long minutes. It’s always easy for him to fall quiet and let Ezra be the one to lead matters, but Ezra has been more than happy to give way to Anthony this evening. But if he doesn’t express his love aloud _ now, _ he may implode from how the molten heat of it threatens to sear through his very essence. 

“And I love you for it,” Ezra repeats, noticing- with great excitement- that Crowley has begun moving them a little faster. “I love you for having faith when I couldn’t. For being brave when I was afraid. For building a paradise for us. I know you don’t like to hear it, my darling, but you are _ so good. _Too good for me, and yet you love me anyway. I don’t deserve it, but I swear, my darling one, I will dedicate my life to being worthy of this. Of you. Oh, how I love you, you gorgeous, beautiful man!” 

_"Ezra!” _

Crowley releases with a choked sob, and Ezra, as he’s always done, follows his husband over the edge. 

Ezra doesn’t know how long they’ve been in this bed, but he knows it’s long enough that he is left bereft of any strength. He slides off Crowley, falling weakly to his side. In an instant, Anthony has gathered him back up into his arms, holding him close and pressing soft, lazy kisses against his lips. Ezra complies sleepily, until the kisses dissolve into the two of them simply pressed close, lips brushing as they catch their breath. 

After several minutes of silence, Crowley sighs. “Was going to ride you next,” he murmurs, annoyed, “Had a _ lot more _planned.” 

“I think,” Ezra says, still trying to catch his own breath, “Perhaps you were a little over-ambitious in your seduction.” 

It’s a tired sound, but Crowley laughs. “Possibly.” 

“We’ll call this this prologue. Tomorrow we can try the rest.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmm,” Ezra muses thoughtfully, curling into Crowley and resting his head on his shoulder. They’re a sticky mess, but he’s not worried about it for the moment. He just wants to lie with his husband. “Perhaps I can take care of the epilogue, after?” 

“That’s only three nights,” Crowley remarks, “Whatever will we do with the rest of our stay?” 

“This is just volume one,” Ezra says simply, “I anticipate we will fill many volumes while we’re here. And more besides.” 

“We’ll fill a library,” says Crowley. 

“Hmm,” Ezra thinks, “We _ could _ enjoy ourselves _ in _the library. I confess it has crossed my mind more than once.” 

“So long as you don’t _ read _ while you’re buggering me,” Crowley laughs softly, wincing when Ezra pokes his side sharply. 

“Quite the talk for someone who spent the beginning of our encounter _ reciting poetry_,” he pauses for a moment, then a small breath escapes him and he lifts a hand to Crowley’s face, shifting to better look him in the eyes. “You recited a love poem while making love to me,” Ezra breathes, “My dear, I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so aroused. And _ Donne?! _I don’t think I’ve ever read Donne to you. Did you find it on your own?!” 

Flushing, Crowley looks away. Or, tries to. Ezra’s hand is still on his cheek, and so he can only move so far. Instead of struggling to remove Ezra’s hand, he simply places a kiss on his palm. “Just because I choose not to read for pleasure doesn’t mean I _ can’t _read,” he huffs. 

“I’m not implying you can’t read,” Ezra huffs, “I’m merely pointing out you _ don’t _ read, and I’m very touched that you went through the effort of finding a poem you liked enough to read _ over and over _to memorize, and then recite to me whilst taking me apart. I’ve never been so utterly seduced.” 

Unable to help himself, Crowley smiles hopefully. “Yeah? Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind. We’ll make a tradition of it.” 

It’s a bold assumption, but Ezra understands that it’s one Crowley needs to make. He needs to know where they stand. He needs to know that this isn’t a one time thing, that this is the commitment Crowley hopes it is. 

“Would you like me to give you a few suggestions, or would you rather surprise me?” 

He watches as Anthony’s eyes light up in understanding, and he surges forward to kiss Ezra. 

Later, after Ezra has jerked them both off in a renewed state of giddy desire, they lie together, messy but uncaring. How can they care when they’re together, free to hold and touch and love and _ be? _ How can anything else matter, but the two of them in their one little room of everywhere? 

Ezra watches Crowley sleep, his chest rising and falling gently, his features soft and at ease. In the ever-dimming light of the hearth, he looks so peaceful, so _ happy _. 

Ezra rises to go to the basin in the room. He takes the rag that is draped over the bowl and wets it, intent to return to his lover and clean him up before tucking them both into the bed. In the ripples of the water, he sees his reflection, and is momentarily taken aback to see the same look of ease and peace and… _ happiness… _ that graces Anthony’s sleeping countenance on his own face. 

With a soft smile, Ezra returns to the bed to wipe away their mess. _ “I wonder, by my troth," _he whispers fondly as he presses a kiss to Anthony’s cheek.

He stirs, but does not awaken. 

_“What thou and I did, till we loved?” _

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (The poem Ezra reads when alone/what he reads to Crowley in the carriage)  
(2) The Good Morrow by John Donne (What Crowley recites to Ezra as he undresses him)  
_ (god this series didn't originally have any poetry AT ALL i feel like i'm back in college re-reading all these damn poems and analysis' of them.) _
> 
> Fun little side note: It doesn’t get mentioned in the fic because their post sex conversation veered away from the topic and I didn’t want to force it because their banter just came so naturally, but Crowley actually memorized that poem during their very first winter apart (the one that takes place in _Reprise_). He made a silent vow that when Ezra finally joined him at the Manor, he would recite it for him. Ezra does not know this. Yet. 
> 
> To ensure it's clear: Crowley only hires servants who are LGBT, as a means to protect people from the constraints of society. Everyone who has ever been directly under his employ was thoroughly vetted and sworn to secrecy, and it's an open secret amongst a certain group of people that if one is ever in need of protection, they can find it through employment at Brimstone Manor. Originally I wasn't going to include that part, because I thought it might strike some people as odd to have the demons that in canon hate Crowley be the ones that trust him/he trusts, but fuck it. It's an AU and it was fun to write. They still all kinda share that canon animosity with each other, but here they also understand that there is something greater than their opinions of one another going on. 
> 
> The Ericsson twins are two of the disposable demons. I gave them the surname Ericsson as a reference to their (fanon?) name. Demostrate and Straton are Greek names that both mean army, which I thought was fitting since in the show there are numerous Eric’s, thus making up a whole army of disposable demons. 
> 
> Mr. Usher is the little round demon Hastur kills in holy water. I absolutely love him and don’t like that he was killed so I made him the butler. 
> 
> I think that covers everything. Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Have a happy new year!!


End file.
